O Children
by iam.mattevans
Summary: Voldemort is taking over the wizarding world, but Oliver and Percy have their own battle to fight. Oliver messed up bad. Will Percy forgive him? AU where Percy didn't get estranged from his family. Warnings for language and erotic scene.
1. Chapter 1

As George entered him, Oliver moaned with longing. He had always fancied George a little bit, always wondered what it would feel like. He had to try it, be it just once. Just this once.

He woke up with a start. His whole body was aching and his head felt as though it was going to split in two. He looked around, but the room was blurry. He didn't recognise it. Where was he?

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, he had to discard it. It was making his head hurt to think right now. He looked instead next to himself, and saw a red headed figure lying in the sheets beside him.

_Percy_, he thought with a small smile. Relief washed over him as he watched the tall men breathe peacefully.

_What happened last night?_ He didn't seem to remember very much. He had gotten very drunk. And before that… He went to the Quidditch match, the Harpies were playing and he wanted to see their new beater in action. And then he met-

He sat up in bed as realisation washed over him. _Oh no. _He thought, hysterically. _Oh no, no, no, please let it not be true. _

He looked again at the figure beside him. It wasn't Percy. It was his younger brother, George Weasley.

Oliver looked around the room again. They seemed to be in Fred and George's flat in Diagon Alley, above their shop.

George grunted in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes.

"Ggggh," he mumbled. Then he spotted Oliver. "Morning," he said with grin on his face.

Oliver flushed. "What… What… What happened last night?" he choked out. "I mean… what am I doing here?"

George looked up at him. "Don't you remember?"

"No. I can't remember anything."

"We've both been to the match. We've met afterwards in the pub, and you kept getting us drinks."

Oliver stared at him. "But why am I here? In a bed with you? What did… II mean, did we…?" he trailed off.

"Yeah," said George. "I thought you wanted this."

"What?! No! I am with Percy! Why would you think I'd want…?"

"Geez, chill. He doesn't need to know. Besides, you are the one who invited himself into our apartment."

"I… What?" Oliver stammered.

"You were really hammered last night, weren't you?"

"But… Why would you even want to do this? I mean, you aren't even gay, are you?"

"No," George conceded. "But I've always had a bit of a crush on you when we were at school. You were a damn good Quidditch player."

"Oh is that all?" Oliver was angry now. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, George! I am dating your brother! We have a real thing going on, it's not like this is a game or something!"

"Stop acting like I'm the only one responsible, Oliver! We were both present last night, and it's not like I drugged you or anything, you did seem quite willing then, you know!"

A voice from the other room stopped their heated discussion. "George? Who are you shouting at?"

And a moment later, the door opened.

"_Oliver?_" Fred was standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. "What are you doing here?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Oliver hurtled out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Oh yeah?" Fred furrowed his eyebrows. "And what does it look like, Oliver?"

"It looks like we've slept together."

"Which you haven't?" asked Fred, looking more confused than ever.

"We have, but…"

"Does Percy know you are here?"

Oliver didn't need to reply. The pained look on his face was more than a confession to Fred. He gave him a disgusted look and walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open.


	2. Chapter 2

"Percy, please, wait!"

"Wait for what, exactly? Do tell me, Oliver!"

"Let me explain."

"Explan? There is nothing to explain, I think it is all pretty clear."

It was raining. They were standing in the middle of an empty street, all the shops' windows fogged up.

"I made a mistake, that's all. I was drunk-"

"A mistake?!" shrieked Percy. "A mistake is when you forget about our anniversary, Oliver! This was not a mistake. You fucked my younger brother, for Christ's sake! What is wrong with you?!"

"I just slipped, okay? I told you, I was drunk. I didn't mean it to happen." Oliver was pleading now, tears streaming down his face.

"Yeah, you were drunk alright. But you know what they say, don't you? In vino veritas after all. And didn't you really mean it to happen, or didn't you just want Fred to tell me, huh?"

"Are seriously going to speak Latin to me right now?"

Percy ignored this. "I thought you were happy! I thought we had a good thing going on! I thought…" but his words failed him.

"I was! We were! I love you, Percy! Please, just give me a second chance."

Percy rolled his eyes. "You've had your chance, and you blew it. We are done. I hope it was worth it, Oliver." He said coldly.

"Worth it? Nothing would ever be worth this. Our relationship means everything to me."

"Apparently not. Did you at least think of me when… You know?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking. I was drunk, Percy." Oliver sighed.

Percy nodded, slowly.

"How was it? Was it good?

"_What? _Why are you asking me something like this?"

"Well, was it?"

There was silence. Percy looked pale. "I don't ever want to see you again. I will move out of the apartment today, so don't come home before I'm gone. And don't you dare come near my brother!"

And Percy disapparated.

Oliver just stood there, rain sodden and feeling empty. He hated the whole world right now, and he hated himself. How could everything he had known and loved have crumbled to pieces just like that, in a few hours? He had nothing now. He had nothing to live for. He lost the only good thing that had ever happened to him. He had lost Percy. All for one stupid drunken night.

When Oliver got home late that night, the apartment was empty and Percy's things had gone. The place felt strangely cold without his presence. Hollow. Unwelcoming. It didn't feel like home anymore.

Oliver got to the bed and crumpled on it, still wearing his clothes. He could smell Percy from the covers and he buried his face in them, hugging them tightly and inhaling the fragrance. Tears were again stinging his eyes, but he did nothing to stop them. He let them fall and get soaked up into the blankets.

He was exhausted, but sleep didn't want to come. Instead, he lay there, going through every little detail of his life with Percy in the past few years. How they met that day after the sorting, sitting next to each other at the Gryffindor table. How Percy annoyed the socks off him during their next for years of sleeping in the same dormitory. How he watched Percy get a girlfriend in their fifth year, and then comforted him after they had broken up. How he finally began to understand that his own feelings towards Percy were more than just brotherly. And how he one day got the courage and told him, expecting their friendship crumble to pieces. But it didn't. Instead, it evolved into something more, something amazing. And now he blew it. All of it.

What good was their nice apartment when Percy was no longer in it? What good was that he was recently promoted from reserve keeper to the real thing, when he no longer had Percy to share the happiness with?

Happiness. The word felt bitter on his tongue. What was happiness now? How could he ever be happy again? Would he ever be happy again? It didn't seem possible. Not without Percy in his life. But the look Percy gave him before he disapparated made Oliver's stomach turn. Percy hated him. He wasn't surprised. He had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable. Percy had trusted him, and he broke his heart. But it made him sure Percy would never forgive him, and that was breaking his heart also.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Oliver woke up late next morning, he had come to a decision. He would write to Percy. Explain. Tell him how sorry he was. How he meant the whole world to him. How he never meant any of this to happen, and how he would take it back in an instance, if only he could. How he would give anything, do anything, to have Percy back.

And so he did.

But Percy didn't write back. Slowly, the hours stretched into days, and days stretched into weeks. And still, he didn't hear anything from Percy.

Slowly, Oliver stopped coming to work. He flanked once Quidditch practice, convincing himself that he was ill and couldn't possible fly in this condition. But then he repeated the matter. He started spending more and more time in his bed. Their bed. His bed, now. He hadn't changed the covers, but it had long ago stopped smelling of Percy. He stopped eating. And he started drinking.

Some of his teammates came in to look in on him from time to time, trying to make sure he was coping, but he buffed their visits off. He wasn't coping, he knew that much. He needed help. But he couldn't accept it. It was his own fault, after all, that he had gotten himself into this state.

It was one late afternoon and he was laying in the bed in his apathetic stage when the doorbell rang. He lifted himself up and went to look through the keyhole, expecting one of his teammates again. But it wasn't anyone from Puddlemere this time. It was George.

"Oliver!" George shouted through the locked door. "Open up, I know you're in there."

Oliver hesitated and then opened the door a fraction. He vaguely realised he hadn't showered for days and he couldn't even remember the last time he shaved.

"What?" he said.

"Geez, you look lovely." George let himself in and closed the door. "Smell lovely, too."

"What are you doing here, George?"

"Just checking how you are doing. Making sure you didn't die all locked up in here."

"Hmph," Oliver snorted.

"I'm serious. Your team is quite worried, too. I've spoken to them, you know. Asked if they've seen you. I wonder why they didn't kick you out yet. You missed the last few games, had to play the reserve keeper instead of you."

"I wonder why the didn't kick me out yet, too." Oliver's voce was flat, matter of fact. He didn't worry about this very much. Playing for his favourite team or working on his career didn't seem to be quite important anymore.

Then George turned his head and all breath left Oliver's lungs. Where his left ear used to be was now only a deep hole, neat and healed, but still terrifying.

"What happened to you?" he choked out, staring at George.

"Deatheaters. Chased us across three counties as we were trying to get Potter to safety. God knows where he is now, the three of them vanished right after the wedding. Bill and Fleur's, that is. You-know-who killed Scrimgeour and took over the ministry."

"WHAT?" was all Oliver managed to choke out.

"You really have been locked up in here, eh? Haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet?"

"No. Percy had a subscription, but he changed it when he moved out."

"Well. There has been quite a change in politics lately. They are hunting Potter down like a sewer rat, and they are rounding up muggleborns. But enough about that. How are you doing?" asked George and started rummaging in the kitchen cabinets for something to eat or drink, because Oliver obviously wasn't going to offer him anything.

"I'm fine. Look, you should probably go. I don't want Percy to know we've been talking, he didn't want me to see you-"

"And how is he going to find out I was here?"

"How did he find out we had slept together?"

George snorted. "Yeah, Fred was a dick with telling him this. Still, Percy _is_ his brother, and he had caught his boyfriend cheating on him. So it was probably fair."

Oliver didn't reply to this. Instead, he asked: "How is he?"

"Perce? Not much better than you. He tries not to show it, but I can tell. He doesn't speak to me, either, you know. Mum is worried about him. She doesn't know what happened, of course, just that you two had broken up. Still… If something doesn't change soon, he is going to end up badly. He is working himself dead."

Oliver had tears in his eyes again. He hated hearing those words about someone he loved. Percy was hurting, and it was all his fault. He felt sickened with himself. He would do anything to take the burden off him, but then again, what could he do? He couldn't take back what he did that night.

And Voldemort has taking over the ministry. Where Percy was working. He must be so scared, Oliver thought. What if something happened to him?

"He is unhappy." George continued. "He misses you."

Oliver was looking at his hand in his lap. "I miss him too."

"You should talk, you know. Sort this out."

"I tried talking to him, George. He doesn't want to listen. I even sent him a letter trying to explain the whole thing, but he didn't reply."

"He needs time. Give him time, Oliver. He loves you. He will forgive you."

"But how much time?"

George didn't answer and only patted Oliver on the shoulder. Oliver flinched and pulled away as though George had hit him. He hated the touch, it reminded him too vividly of the night they had spent together. It made him sick.

George just looked at him for a moment, but then he turned and headed for the door.

"Give him time, Oliver," he said once more before shutting the door behind himself.


	4. Chapter 4

And even though every day felt like eternity, Oliver tried to do just that. He waited. George's words had given him some comfort, some tiny bit of hope. Did Percy really miss him? Was there a bit of affection for him, somewhere deep inside of Percy's heart under all the anger and hatred he showed?

Oliver hoped so. That was all he now had. Hope.

He went to see his teammates not long after George's visit. Tried to explain away his long absences from the team. He joined them back for practise sessions. He was now back to being a reserve keeper, but he didn't mind. It was only fair, after all. He worked hard to get back into condition, and concentrated fully on his game.

He stopped drinking and started to eat regularly again. After the trainings, he began to feel properly hungry for the first time in months.

He didn't shave his beard, though. It had grown quite a lot during the time he was locked up in his apartment, and he decided it didn't look too bad, either, when he took some care of it.

While Oliver was getting his life back together, however, the wizarding world was falling into darkness. Voldemort was at the height of his power, and he was taking over everything. Oliver tried to keep up with the news in the Quibbler, but they didn't tell him much. He was scared. He feared for Percy, who was surely working right there, right for the dark wizard, with no prospect of escaping in fear of being murdered.

He wished he could be there for Percy. He wished he could save him somehow. Protect him. Hide him. But there was nothing he could do. It would be too dangerous. And at any rate, Percy didn't want to see him.

It was early spring when Oliver found himself walking home from Quidditch practise one day completely exhausted but pleased with how the training had gone. He was offered the keeper's position on the team again, and he was very pleased his hard work had paid off. He was nearly in a happy mood when he spotted it. Percy was on the other side of the street, but he didn't seem to have noticed Oliver. Oliver thought of going over to say hello, but then he noticed that Percy wasn't alone. He was walking hand in hand with a dark haired man, who, Oliver decided, looked rather unpleasant. He retreated into a nearby shop then, not wanting to be spotted by either Percy or the man, and watched them from the shop's window.

The man whispered something into Percy's ear, the Percy laughed. It made Oliver's stomach turn. Who was this person Percy was with? Did that mean Percy had moved on? Did it mean he didn't love Oliver anymore? Not even a little bit? Oliver still kept his hopes up, thinking that Percy would forgive him one day. But it didn't look like it now.

Oliver watched in disgust as the dark man spat onto the pavement and then leaned in to kiss Percy. His Percy! And Percy kissed him him back, he didn't push him away or anything. What was going on? Why was Percy with such a person? He _hated_ it when people spat in public. Oliver knew that. He knew everything about Percy. They had grown up together, had they not? They were meant for each other.

So what was Percy doing now kissing the strange man?

Oliver never made it home. Instead, he went into a local bar and got himself a drink, and then another, trying to forget what he had just witnessed. But a vision of Percy kissing that man kept intruding into his thoughts.

He felt betrayed. He knew he had little right to feel this way - it was more than a year now since he and Percy had broken up. And he did cheat on him, too. But still. He kept hoping it was only temporary. That they would make up eventually. However, Percy didn't seem to think this.

Oliver downed another drink. Was George wrong when he told him that Percy missed him? Was he lying to get him out of bed?

It was a couple of hours later when he finally left the bar. He had made his decision. He had to talk to Percy. Tell him he still loved him. Tell him he wanted him back.

When he apparated onto a hill near the Burrow, he was pleased to see the smoke rising from the small house's chimney. He thought maybe the Weasley had gone into hiding, left the Burrow and his somewhere protected by the Fidelius charm. It would only be sensible, the situation in the country being what it was. And it would have meant that Percy was safe, too, even though he wouldn't have been able to talk to him.

He walked across the front garden and knocked on the door.

It was Mrs. Weasley who answered.

"Hello, Oliver," she said coldly. He backed a pace under the look she was giving him. Of course she hated him. He should have expected this. He had broken her son's heart. But still, it was a shock to see the icy look in the eyes that once looked at him so fondly.

"Mrs. Weasley, is Percy home? I need to talk to him."

"He doesn't want to see you," she rebuffed him.

"Please," Oliver begged her. "Please Mrs. Weasley. I have to talk to him. Please." His voice was hoarse.

She looked him up and down, frowning slightly. "Oh, Oliver," she sighed, her cold expression warming up a tiny bit. "What have you boys done to each other?"

She shook her head. It was a rhetorical question, and Oliver didn't reply. He knew she didn't expect him to tell her.

"I messed up," he said instead and looked pleadingly at her. I messed up real bad, Mrs. Weasley."

"I'll call him," she said at last and vanished behind closed doors.

Oliver waited. His heart was beating rather fast, and his mouth had gone dry. He was nervous.

"What do you want, Wood?" Percy Weasley appeared in the doorway. He didn't look too pleased to see who it was.

"Fuck, you smell like a liquor store."

"Perce. It's good to see you."

Percy didn't say anything. Close up, Oliver noticed he looked much thinner than the last time he saw him and had dark shadows under his eyes. It terrified him.

"I miss you. I want you back. Please come home."

"I am home."

"I meant-"

"I know what you meant. I am home here now."

"Come back, Percy. You belong there. With me. I need you. I know you need me too."

Percy scoffed. "I don't need you. Go away, Oliver. I told you, it is over."

"I tried to give you time, you know. I hoped that maybe you've forgiven me." Oliver mumbled.

"Forgiven you? How could I ever forgive you something like that? Jesus, Wood. If you'd just picked up a random guy at a bar. But no, you had to go the whole way and do my younger brother!"

"I am sorry! What else can I say? Do you think I haven't regretted it a thousand times more than you did? I never knew this would happen. I didn't know it was so damn hard to be alone."

"You took me for granted, in other words."

"I suppose I did, yes." Oliver hung his head. Percy scoffed. "Please don't give up on us, Perce. We are so good together. Let me fix this."

"There's nothing to fix. It's already dead. Let it go. Move on."

"I can't. I cannot watch you with someone else, it's killing me. We belong together."

"You are drunk, Oliver. Go home and sleep this off. You don't even want me back, all this will be gone tomorrow when you wake up." Percy made to close the door, but Oliver held it steady. He was drinking, it was true, but he was still a lot stronger than starved figure of Percy Weasley.

"Get off before I hex you, Wood," Percy hissed, but Oliver ignored him.

"Grow up, Oliver! Learn to live with what happened, live with the scars, just like I have to. You deserve every single regret you have and you know it! I don't even want to have this fight right now, I'm sick and tired. I don't want you back, okay? Leave me alone."

His last words hit Oliver like a bullet. He slackened his grip and Percy managed to shut the door in his face.

Snippets of what Percy had said were racing through his head. That was it, then. It was over. All his hopes he had built up in him over the months, gone. Percy didn't want him. He'd never forgive him.

Could he live without Percy? Over the years they were together, he'd never once imagined them breaking up. They were simply meant to be. Everyone else had said it, too.

_You took me for granted_, Percy's voice sounded inside of his head. And he supposed he really did. He had been such a fool! How come a person only realised what he had once he lost it?

Oliver looked up and saw Ginny's face pressed against an upper story window, watching him. He looked away and walked to the nearby hill, from where he could disapparate.

He headed straight back into the bar. And he drank.

He thought, then, about how Percy had looked. Ill. Unlike himself. Oliver couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be, working at the ministry at this time. He must be so scared. So alone. Except for the dark haired stranger, of course. And what did that mean, anyway? Was Percy seeing _him_ now? It definitely looked like it. It that why he rebuffed Oliver like this? Was he perhaps in love with the man? Did he really move on so easily?

_It's been more than a year_, a nagging voice inside his head said. _That's more than enough time_. But then again, Percy certainly didn't look like a person in love. He just looked… worn down. Stressed. Worried. Definitely not happy. And a man is supposed to be happy when he is in love, shouldn't he?

But then, he was in love with Percy and he indisputably wasn't happy.


	5. Chapter 5

Oliver didn't shut himself in this time. He decided that Percy needed his help, and because he was unwilling to accept it directly, Oliver had to find some other ways to give it. Of course he would have fought Voldemort either way, but it was seeing the strain it was making on Percy, the one person he loved with every ounce of his being, that made him really determined to bring Voldemort down. And he did everything that was in his power to make it happen. Xeno Lovegood was now in Azkaban for supporting Potter in the Quibbler, but Oliver managed to get in contact with some members of the Order of the Phoenix, and he started helping out Fred, George and Lee with Potterwatch. He never participated directly, but he was the one keeping watch outside the building when they broadcasted, and he was the one scouting out new places they could stay in and securing them.

Lee and George were perfectly friendly to him, and even Fred seemed to relinquish some of his anger towards him after a while. He knew Oliver was really sorry, and at the very least he appreciated why Oliver was doing all of this. All the Weasleys had seen what effect did the new regime had on both Percy and Mr. Weasley, and Fred understood Oliver was trying to protect Percy in all his work in the resistance.

Oliver himself didn't talk much in the weeks that followed his confrontation with Percy. He focused on his tasks, often putting himself in more risk than was strictly necessary in order to protect the others, and otherwise he kept to himself, and the others didn't bother him with questions. It was a surprise, therefore, when George came to him late one May afternoon, looking all excited.

"It's happening! Harry, Ron and Hermione are at Hogwarts. Longbottom's just sent us a message." He was grinning.

Oliver only looked his confusion.

"Well come on, Wood, get a move on! We are going to fight the deatheaters and Snape out of Hogwarts! I'll finally be able to repay him for my bleeding ear!"

They all apparated directly into the Hog's Head Inn a few minutes later, only having time to grab their wands before they left.

"Hmpch," grunted the barman when they appeared right in front of him. "Damn that Longbottom kid, sending people right into my pub at night." And he showed them the secret passage leading into the school.

Oliver was running. He was chasing Yaxley, but then he saw something that made him change direction at once. A fly of red hair. He looked round just in time to see a tall figure with glasses fall to the ground, trying desperately to escape another deatheater he was fighting. It was Percy.

He lay on the floor, feeling the debris scattered across the hallway in frantic search for his wand, that had flown out of his hand as he fell. The other man was getting nearer.

Oliver didn't hesitate. He pointed his own wand at the deatheater from distance and, for the first time in his life, shouted: "Avada kedavra!"

And he felt something break inside of him.

The man crumpled to the ground at once, his lifeless form hitting the floor with a dull thump. Oliver stared at him in horror at what he'd just done. He could feel tears stinging in his eyes, but he blinked them away. There was no time for this.

He walked up to Percy and offered him a hand to help him get off the floor. Percy took it.

The two men looked at each other for a fraction of a second, exchanging the smallest of glances, before they both ran off in the opposite directions, rejoining the battle.

The castle was quiet. Oliver walked through its empty, half-demolished corridors, seeking solitude. The battle was over. He had helped carry the bodies of the dead back into the Great Hall, but now, as all the living and the injured gathered there, he couldn't stay. Fred was dead, he knew. He saw his whole family huddled around him. And who knew how many others he knew had died, too, or were perhaps dying right now? He couldn't face them.

He walked to the seventh floor, wanting to hide in the Room of Requirement, where he could not be disturbed, but when he reached the corridor, he saw that it was no longer working. He slumped instead on the floor, resting his back against the wall, and looked out of the corridor window. He could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance, brightly lit in the rising sun because the deatheaters had set it on fire.

He was exhausted, but knew he had no chance of resting. He doubted, in fact, wheatear he would ever be able to sleep again. This should never have happened. They were _children_ for heaven's sake. How did they even come to be fighting in this war? How many others now sat in silence, alone, thinking about all the things they had done when it came down to it? How could a person change so much when they have weapons put into their hands and brought to fight in a war? And how long will it take before they are able to go back into their regular lives? How many nights will it take for the nightmares to stop, nightmares that were bound to come after all the horrors they had seen? Horrors they had _done_.

They had won the battle. The war was over. Shouldn't he feel happy? But the only thing he felt was sick. He was sure he would see the face of the man he had killed forever, each times he closed his eyes. Just hanging there, reminding him of who he was. A murderer. He would never have believed it of himself. The things he was made to do. The things he was capable of.

And what was he supposed to do now? It somehow seemed he had been hurtling towards this point, trying to bring Voldemort down, and now it was done. Oliver was empty, and felt incredibly lonely. He didn't have a life he wanted to go back to. All he had in the past months was the resistance, and that was over now. He had had a purpose. It was easy to focus on the war and the things that needed to be done so he didn't need to examine the gaping hole that was inside of him. But now he had all the time in the world, alone, just him and his miserable feelings.

He heard footsteps and turned around to see who had found him. It was Percy. He was still wearing his Ministry robes, which were torn in places. He was limping and there was a trickle on blood from his left temple. He had lost his glasses somewhere and his eyes were the brightest blue.

Percy walked slowly to Oliver and sat down next to him, laying his head on Oliver's shoulder. Oliver looked up, surprised. He hesitated and then placed his arm around Percy carefully. He was pleased the man didn't shake it off.

"I was scared you had been killed, too," said Percy. "When I didn't see you in the Great Hall." His voice was hoarse, as though he had a bad head cold. Oliver knew he was crying, and tears started flowing down his own face too, mixing with the sweat, dust and blood.

"I'm alright," he whispered and almost absentmindedly kissed Percy in his hair. It was matted and dirty, but Oliver didn't care. For now, he had Percy back in his arms, and even though he knew it was probably just weakness of the moment and that it was not likely to last long before Percy regained composure again, he savoured every second of it.

"I've killed a man." It was all he could think about.

Percy sighed. "You've saved my life."

"But I still killed him. I could have stunned him. But I didn't."

"Don't blame yourself for something that isn't your fault, Oliver. This whole thing… We should never have been here. This should never have happened. We are twenty-two, for Christs sake. Who are we to fight in a war like this? Every one of has had done things tonight they are not proud of."

Oliver didn't reply, and they sat in silence for a long time, watching the sun rise and flood the corridor with golden red light of early morning.

"I've really missed you," said Percy after a while. "This past year at the Ministry, it's been like…" his voice broke. Oliver couldn't think of anything to say to that that wasn't hollow and meaningless, so he just squeezed Percy closer to himself.

"I've missed you too." He hesitated. "I thought you were seeing someone, actually," he added.

Percy looked up. "How did you work that one out?"

Oliver briefly explained how he had seen Percy with the dark haired man. Percy nodded. "Oh." He didn't offer any explanation.

"I belong with you, Oliver." He said after a while.

"I thought you hated me."

"A lot has changed tonight," was the only thing Percy said. And then: "Don't mess up again."

Oliver almost smiled. "I won't." And he hugged Percy tightly, his starved figure feeling strangely small and fragile in his arms.

The sun had fully risen now, and it seemed as though it's warmth on their faces was washing away some ot the horrors of the previous night. It was a new day, new beginning, and they both sat there in silence, savouring the moment between two worlds, one with a war in it, and one without. Savouring the time they had before they'd have to get up again and start making decisions. Start trying to live again. If that was even possible.

"Oliver?" Percy shifted slightly and looked Oliver straight in the eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Will you marry me?"


End file.
